Kiss You Later
by tints
Summary: She had everything she ever wanted, and in a single breath, she ran away. Back home, after two weeks of M.I.A., Brooke's homeless, heartbroken, and destroyed. In search of a place to live, Brooke finds an unlikely companion in a lonely Nathan. NB.
1. Couch Potato

**Kiss You Later.  
**_Nathan/Brooke_

**Summary: **She had everything she ever wanted, and in a single breath, she ran away. Back home, after two weeks of M.I.A., Brooke's homeless, heartbroken, and destroyed. In search of a place to live, Brooke finds an unlikely companion in a lonely Nathan, and a spare couch in his once-filled with light apartment. NathanBrooke. _(Futurefic.)_

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

**A/N: **All you need to know about the characters is that this is set four years in the future, making Brooke and the gang roughly 22. I'm not sure how old they are in the series, but considering they're seniors, I'm guessing they're roughly 18. (And since Rachel was 17 in the Season Three Finale, thank you Hot Uncle Cooper for telling me this). It is set in the future so I don't have to go by any _One Tree Hill_ guidelines (a.k.a episodes), and since I can muck around with it. It's free-er, and hopefully more entertaining than your average episodic altered fic that _I_ could ever write.

Note: Brooke and Peyton mended their broken friendship (again) and Brooke and Lucas gave it another shot (again), and Haley went off for her music career after the Season Three Finale - somewhere after that - and I know I ruined _that_ whole shocking surprise but who knows, maybe Haley could've lied? _Hmmm . . ._ Season Four doesn't exist in my world. Or on my TV. So, some things I _know_ have happened, and some things I _don't_ . . . so be nice. Please:p (BEWARE: Naley and Leyton will be an undertone. Sad, I know.)

This will also be slightly - if not, surprisingly - AU to _One Tree Hill_, and to some of the things that have happened. I won't tell you anything, for fear that it's either happened (in the new season) and/or because I want it to be a surprise. Some things may have happened in _One Tree Hill_ may be used in here - to basically develop our Brathan and their story - but most likely they've been altered to fit our - more like _my_ - Brathan lust. Some things may seem familiar, because I can't think of anything creative. ;/

I've tried keeping everyone in character as much as possible. Any suggestions, guesses and feedback is welcome! I've planned most of this out - and still _am_ planning - and I guess there will be angst, since I am into the whole "I-like-you-but-I-won't-tell-you-therefo re-forming-ST". Therefore, this may be a _long_ story. I just hope you're all in for the ride. ;)

Also, some words may be spelt in the Australian way. I've only changed "mum" to "mom" for the hell of it. :p

Anyway. Enjoy, and please review. :)

Lyrics: Evermore - "Running".

**

* * *

****o1. Runaway Cheery.**

_step away, turn around_

_let my feet hit the ground_

_. . . running, running, running, running . . ._

She remembers the clock ticking in sync with her heart. Quickly, nervously, rushing.

The body-length mirror reflected her pure presence, the white fabric shining in a way that made the room somewhat brighter, and her aura somehow more innocent than it actually was. Everything seemed perfect, at the time she had been thinking so too, but the person she saw reflected on the glass was not the girl she'd pictured in her many fantasies, and the dreams she'd smiled to while she slept, as they lead her through the days coming up to the big event.

She remembers the frown she wore, the dress was doing no justice to her mood, and her heart wasn't thumping violently in her chest, ready to burst due to the mere thought of becoming Mrs Lucas Scott. It may have been nerves, but for the first time in four years, she's realised what has been right in front of her all this time.

It wasn't meant to be. It never was.

It was doomed from the start, and as the tears slowly caressed her face, dragging her black mascara down with it, she finally realised she wouldn't have a happy ending. It wasn't going to be happy, anyway. With all the deception, lies and the _history_. How could she forget the history? Her maid-of-honour and her fiancée had a past - a rather messy past that was full of want, need, _love_.

Everything else is blank, she refuses to remember, and her memory skips to where she's running - not literally, but in a sense she is - and she gets into the limo - she refused a horse and carriage, since the memories of a bridge, a crash and another fairytale marriage gone haywire still burns in their memories - and she escaped.

She ran from her prince. She ran from the evil witch. She ran from it all.

She was a coward, and she was happy with that. But now? She's realised her mistake. She's a risk taker, always has been and always will be, and she ran from something that requires risk, not just because of who was in the wedding, or who she is, but because _marriage_ itself is a risk.

That's why she's here, in California. She's not here to get comfort from her parents - hell, they didn't even know their daughter was even getting married - but for an escape. No one would bother travelling this far to get to her, and she knew two weeks ago, that he'll be gone with _her_.

Goddamn Goldilocks always got everything.

The dress still fit her perfectly, just like it had that warm afternoon, and she quickly tears herself out of it, the memories still stinging, and she knows she isn't ready to take that bandaid off quite yet.

She folds up the white material, and quickly dresses into a pair of jeans and a white tank top. Pulling her hair into a high ponytail, she stares into the mirror and lets her hands drop to her sides, and with a sigh, she quietly encourages herself. "It's time to go home, Brooke Davis."

-

The airport is busy, and Brooke finds comfort in this. Everyone is bustling around, minding their own business, and she doesn't recognise a single face. Releasing a breath, she pulls her bag along with her, making her way to the exit. She stops quickly, eyeing the doors uneasily, and knows if she steps over this boundary, that she's in Tree Hill. She can't escape the looks, the whispers, the questions that are bound to be asked by some of the people she knows.

_Karen._ Brooke knows she's disappointed her, as her face flickers in her mind, the shock, the anger, the hurt. She shakes her head, ridding the image of Karen's upset face, and takes a deep breath before she sets foot outside the safety of the airport.

_There's no place like home._

She takes a cab, and she's already on her way to a place she's rather familiar with. It feels like decades have gone by as she sits in the cab, her head resting on the window as she sees everything whip past her. It feels like life itself, her relationship with Lucas, has gone as quick as the speed of light. Nostalgic from her sudden loss, Brooke's grateful for when the cab pulls over at one of her favourite places.

_Karen's Cafe._ She reads the sign affectionately as she gets out, tosses some cash at the cabbie, and grabs her suitcase from the back. As the car drives off, Brooke is caught standing there, looking through the window. She sees Karen wiping the counter, her eyes focussed at the task at hand, and she looks up - Brooke's begging her to - and once she spots Brooke outside the window, Brooke isn't so sure she wanted Karen to see her. At least, not while the wounds were fresh.

Karen's eyes are wide, and from where Brooke's standing, they look almost blank. As dark as the first night she spent that was meant to be her wedding night. Alone, cold, and stuck in a reasonably expensive hotel room in California. She shivers as she's thrown out of the memory abruptly, and the eye contact hasn't broken.

Brooke's the first to break it, though, looking down at her feet. When she looks up again, Karen's blinking in her direction, possibly wondering why on earth Brooke is in Tree Hill. Without thinking - or even _feeling_ - Brooke's moving towards the door. The chime above her rings as she opens it, and she drags her bag behind her, leaving it near a table close to the exit just in case Karen decides to throw mugs at her.

She doubts it, though, but the nightmares really did frighten her.

Karen's wiping a mug with a cloth as Brooke approaches the counter. She watches her, almost like a hawk watching it's prey, and when Brooke sits down on the edge of her stool, it's the first time she's noticed she's shaking. Karen doesn't hate her, right? Karen approaches Brooke, she's still behind the counter, and doesn't even smile. Brooke misses her motherly smile, it sent warmth right through her, a warmth she had been neglected from all her life.

She shifts in her stool, and almost topples over as Karen's icy voice dully says, "Brooke." It's not a question, or a sign of astonishment that her should-have-been-daughter-in-law is actually alive and well. Brooke winces as Karen's eyes penetrate hers, burning holes into her own, and Brooke looks down at the counter where her hands have managed to rest.

She summons up her courage, and looks up at Karen, "Hi."

Karen still looks at Brooke, making her feel naked and exposed. So this is how it's going to be? She walks away from a marriage that would never have brought happiness, and she's getting punished for it? The one mature move Brooke's ever made in her life, and it has come down to isolation from even someone she thought of as a mother? The tears started to well up in her eyes, and as she looks at Karen, the further they push to escape.

A tear quickly slides down her cheek, another following its lead, and another after that. Leaning her elbows on the counter, Brooke places her head slowly into her hands, whimpering and crying harder than she's ever done since her failed wedding night. "Oh Brooke," she vaguely hears as Karen places the mug down on the counter, and hurriedly walks over towards her. The feel of warmth across her shoulders and smooth circles near the back of her neck brings Brooke to realise Karen is there, soothing her and not cruelly laughing at her.

She's calmer now, after minutes of soothing and shushing, and Brooke knows Karen will always be her ideal mom. "Do you have any place to stay?" Karen asks as she sits on a stool beside Brooke, her motherly voice makes Brooke feel safer than she has in weeks.

Brooke can't muster up words, and shakes her head instead. Karen sighs with a small nod, and says, "You can stay with me, if you like. You can take up Luke's room."

At the mere mention of Lucas, Brooke shakes her head quickly, "No, no. I can't do that to you. Not again."

"I don't mind the company. You've always been welcome Brooke, no matter what status you and my son are at."

Brooke smiles shyly, a blush tinging her cheeks. She doesn't deserve this kind of hospitality, not from Karen of all people. She's nodding, a small nod at that, and Karen's smiling once again. "But I won't take the bed. The couch seems just fine." Brooke didn't wish to taint the memory of Lucas in Karen's mind. Whether it be physical or not. She can't go back into that bedroom, they both know it.

"The couch it is," Karen smiles reassuringly, and Brooke's certain there was no anger against her to start with. Karen ends up getting her a coffee, saying it's on the house, and the two bond over the past, the future, and never seem to mention what had transpired two weeks ago.

It's a breath of fresh air, but Brooke's sure it won't last for long.

-

She takes up camp on the couch, after much persuasion that it'll just be easier if she wasn't in Lucas' room, or taking up anymore space than necessary for her temporary visit. She promised Karen in the cafe that she'd be out of her hair as soon as possible, a week tops, and she was sure she'd find an apartment sooner than that.

It feels awkward staying with Karen, she was certain two weeks ago she'd be her daughter-in-law, _finally_. But, as Brooke knew life, it _always_ had a way to tear her up inside and make her destroy the one thing that had been positive in her life. For four years, she'd dreamed of her wedding to Lucas. Kind of crazy, really, but Brooke always thought he was the one.

He had even told _Rachel_ she was the one.

Definitely freaky.

She sighs as she fluffs the pillow pathetically. It's still bright and early, and as hot as hell, and Brooke figures she could take a walk to see if Tree Hill has even changed in the slightest since her short absence. It's a long shot, to be truthful, but Brooke needs an excuse to get out of the house before she ventures into Lucas' room and invades the scent and _feel_ of him.

She misses the warmth of his hands all over her, eliciting a spark within the deepest chambers of her heart.

She moves over towards the front door - she refuses to go through Lucas' room, it's a familiar route she had become used to when she was 18 - and opens the door and allows the air to enter into her body, hoping it cleanses her in and out.

She starts walking down the concrete path in front of many perfectly built houses, wondering if her car is still around. Has Rachel crashed it? Did she sell it? Has Rachel - _oh god._ Her mind wasn't going to go anywhere near where Rachel's nudity and another person's nakedness was concerned. She considers walking to Rachel's house, but she knows she's not ready for it yet. Rachel will do anything to tear Brooke down, from her pedestal or from the cliff's edge, and Brooke wasn't stable enough for Hurricane Rachel.

At least, not yet.

She's been walking for what seems like hours when she came to a stop at a door. It isn't painted red - and she's thankful for that, she doesn't need another painful memory of a certain blonde - and there's no sound coming from behind it. It's been a lonely place for four years, ever since the breaking up of Tree Hill's fairytale couple.

The bookworm and the basketball star.

She sighs before she allows her fist to make contact with the dull coloured wood. Brooke knocks a couple of times, once, twice, and stands there impatiently, tapping her foot on the porch. She doesn't know if he's sold the place yet, but she's sure he hasn't. He hadn't two weeks ago, had he?

With another sigh, Brooke's about to give up when the door squeakily opens and reveals the scruffy face of a familiar happy trooper. Although, he's not so happy anymore. Hasn't been for years.

She smiles, it's genuine and not forced, which surprises her, and she cheerily greets him, "Hey superstar."

"Brooke?" It's like he's squinting, as if he's just gotten out of his dark, deep, broody hole to come and answer the door, and the sunlight is his enemy. Or maybe she's just too bright. Either way, he squints and questions her as if she isn't real. She doesn't blame him, though, she's been M.I.A. for two weeks. Everyone who knows Brooke knows she's always around.

_Always._

It's predictable, and she knows she's thrown them all off course. They don't know her anymore, and she's sure as hell doesn't know who this person is in this body that looks certainly like her. The shell may be her, but what is inside isn't. That's what she thinks of it, anyway.

"That's me. Why, have you forgotten me already?" The chirpiness in her voice really is surprising her, with how down and depressed she's been feeling, Brooke doesn't know how her brain is making her voice and limbs act all jumpy and happy. It's almost normal.

He shakes his head as if he was talking to Elvis or someone who he hasn't seen in years, and he blinks a couple of more times, obviously not believing what his eyes are seeing. Brooke guesses he's probably adjusting to the sunlight. Maybe he's hung over. "No, I just - I just didn't expect to see you around."

He sighs, and Brooke notices how defeated he is. He leans against the open door, looking at her in her jeans and tank top, looking as plain and dead as ever, and all she wants to do is hug him because of the sad, lost and almost drained look that plagues his once scheming face. She opts for a shrug, though, and softens her voice as she's flushed with seriousness, "Neither did I."

Nathan shrugs effortlessly, it's a small gesture but it warms Brooke's heart, "Well, I'm glad you're back." At this, Brooke raises her eyebrow in wonderment, and he quickly adds, "Tree Hill just wasn't the same without bitchy Brooke."

"Aww. I missed you, too, Nate," Brooke smiles as she shifts on her feet. She resists the urge to playfully punch his shoulder. They're not kids anymore, and nothing is what it had been four years ago. She doesn't know what she can and can't do around him anymore. He's a broken case, or a record - something along the lines of him being broken - and she knows he's not the same Nathan Scott she once knew.

Silence overcomes them, and it feels uncomfortable, but it suits them. They've never been close - not really, not even when Nathan was dating Peyton all those years ago, or when Brooke was with Lucas (when Nathan and Lucas had become the best of friends) - but they always knew they had a connection. Brooke inwardly shrugs it off as she looks at Nathan, taking in his lazy gaze and his lazy appearance.

Haley really did do a number on him.

There's a sudden change in Nathan's calm stare, and it makes Brooke shift as he asks one of the few questions Brooke doesn't wish to answer, "Where did you go, Brooke?" His eyes never seem to leave her, she can feel it as she looks at the hinges in the door. She doesn't know how, but it seems like every Scott had some sort of power over her. Maybe she was easy to read for them, or maybe it was because of how she was around Lucas. She used to be open, vibrant, bouncy. She wore her heart on her sleeve, and wanted the whole world to know what she was feeling. She thought she had been feeling love.

Brooke looks at her feet, and she knows she can't hide forever. Not from Nathan, she at least owes him something. It's not like they ever dated or had any relationship, or anything. She just feels obligated to. Besides, there was just some sort of bond already formed, and Brooke knew she felt something strong with him, she just didn't know what. "I had to get away," she quietly says, and she's not sure if he heard her.

He's quiet for a few minutes, and Brooke finally gains the courage to look at him. She's a coward, regardless if she runs or doesn't. She can't even look Nathan in the eye and tell him the truth - or say something similar to it.

His eyes make her see how he feels. He's broken. She immediately looks away, again. She caused that look, with her words, anyway. Maybe her actions. But in Nathan's eyes, maybe she was Haley to him. Haley ran, she ran to her music, she didn't fight for her marriage - well, that's how Brooke saw it. Haley got away before she could be torn in two, unlike Brooke, she was already split in half. Brooke inwardly slaps herself for her stupidity. Nathan may be the only one left, but she's got to remember he has a tragic past, too. Something similar to hers. He's still hurting, and he needs her just as she needs him. Her musings are broken when Nathan's voice cracks as he breathes out, "Why?"

Brooke eyes dart to his, away from the balcony where some memories of girls' nights and pillow fights had come before her eyes, and she looks at Nathan, confused. It takes her a few seconds to realise what he's asking.

_Why did she leave Lucas?_

She's going to stall, they both know it, and when she dismisses it with a wave of her hand and, "It doesn't matter," it leaves Brooke knowing that it _does_ matters. It matters a lot. Maybe it matters more to Nathan than to her.

Nathan opens his mouth to speak but Brooke quickly butts in first, knowing he's going to push for an answer, and she knows she's not ready to face the reality yet. Her tone isn't soft, but it is louder than it had been seconds ago, and there's less personal emotion behind it. "Look, do you know where I can find a good apartment or something? I don't want to burden Rachel - god forbid I live with that whore again - and I want my own place, so, you know any that come at a really low price? Maybe nothing at all?"

Nathan seems to have picked up on this, and he scratches the back of his neck, "Where are you staying now? Your car?" He tries looking over her shoulder, and he doesn't see a car there. Brooke doesn't even have to turn around to see where he's looking. His eyes look distant, almost lost, and she knows he's reliving something. A memory. Something totally Naley and personal.

"No," Brooke chuckles with a shake of her head, "Rachel has my car. I'm staying at Karen's."

"Oh."

"Yeah," she says awkwardly, sensing the tension her confession had caused. She even guessed things with Karen would be tough - they will be, she knows it, but right now, she needs to settle in.

"I don't know any places," Nathan says, looking down at his feet. He looks up to Brooke's disappointed face, and she swears she sees the emotion of guilt flash quickly in his eyes before he hastily adds, "Sorry."

Brooke sighs, and her shoulders slump in defeat, "Pity. I hate doing this to Karen."

"I'm sure she doesn't mind."

"That her son's ex-fiancée broke his heart and has now moved in her house, claiming her rather lumpy couch?" Brooke proposes, losing her breath as her emotions start overruling her mind. She doesn't want to cry - not in front of Nathan. She rubs her palm to her forehead, trying to keep the tears away from her eyes.

"Okay. I take that back. I bet she does."

_Phew. Tears be gone._

Brooke lets out a frustrated sigh, and weakly voices, "How did life get so out of control?"

Nathan didn't reply. Instead, he scratches the back of his neck again, looking at Brooke and he reluctantly offers, "Uh, I guess - I guess you could stay here, for a bit. Until you find a place, and all."

She looks up surprised, she never expected _Nathan_ out of all the people in Tree Hill to _offer_ her a place. She already had her puppy dog eyes, pouting lip and begging planned for back up, but there seems to be no need. Not for today. Not for Nathan. Her eyes are wide as she seems to have moved back a little from the shock, "Are you sure?"

"I guess," Nathan says with a shrug. Oh right, like _that_ is going to convince her. But Brooke isn't going to complain. She'll take whatever she can get at the moment, and if that means she has to live with a gloomy Nathan, than so be it. Who knew, he might get a little _cheery_ with Brooke around.

"Oh, thank you Nate!" Brooke exclaims as she jumps towards him, wrapping her arms around his muscular figure. He doesn't respond at first, but Brooke soon feels his hands pat her back awkwardly, and she stifles a giggle at how she's being treated like a pet.

"Yeah, yeah. No problem." Nathan says, his breath hot and tickling her ear. She pulls away from him, a little breathless but she doesn't let it show, and continues to smile widely.

Her voice is cheery, and it seems like the old Brooke is back. _Almost._ "I promise you won't regret it!"

"You sure?" Nathan asks sceptically, raising one of his eyebrows as Brooke looks shocked at his attitude. He's playing, and Brooke likes how he's suddenly switched to Nathan-with-an-_actual_-personality. He's glowing with light, and Brooke has to - inwardly - give herself a pat on the back for her effort.

"You're funny," she huffs out, her arms crossed over her chest as she stares him down - while she's looking _up_ at him. He's much taller than her, only by a head or so.

He rolls his eyes, looking away from the fuming brunette, and breathes out casually, "Whatever."

Brooke suddenly stops her huffing and smiles again, almost bouncing on the spot, "So, when can I move in?"

Nathan shrugs and winces, "Tomorrow?" He's already regretting this, she can tell. No one promises Brooke Davis something and backs away. She's a challenge, and she knows Nathan _loves_ challenges.

"Great! Thanks again Nate."

"It's okay."

"Great. Now I've got to see if my car has any disgusting stains in it since I've been gone."

Nathan nods, apparently ignoring her as she imagines her car with the smell of Rachel and men. "See you later," he offers, knowing this will be the last time his bachelor pad will be all manly. _There's too much testosterone in that building,_ Brooke thinks as she stands on her tip-toes, trying to look over his shoulder. She turns to face Nathan, an amused smile and a rare smirk lighten his face, and she offers him a lame shrug, settling back down onto her feet.

Brooke doesn't leave immediately like she thinks he expects, but she surprises him with a peck on the cheek and a warming smile as she starts to skip down the long staircase, leading to her path. Before she's completely out of earshot, Brooke excitedly yells, "Kiss you later, roomie!"

She's bouncing as she plops from step to step, and the smile on her face won't go away. Her stomach is doing flip-flops, assaulting the walls of her insides, and it's not just because she's scored a place to actually sleep in that's comfortable, warm and has no source of any unwanted tension. She would've felt the pinching of her cheeks start to ache, but all her mind - and her body - could feel is the fuzziness that's overtaken her mouth.

_i don't know_

_i really don't know_

_if this castle in the sand_

_is strong enough to stand._


	2. Dirty Vehicles

The ending has changed. 

-

The door is open once Brooke arrives on the doorstep, and she doesn't bother to knock. It isn't like she ever did, anyway. This place was once her home, as well as many other places, but for some reason she found a bond within these walls.

She opens the door quietly, as slowly as possible, and shuts it without a squeak. She's definitely a pro. at sneaking in. She can hear the radio blasting from upstairs, and she takes the route she used to know that leads her to a room.

She walks inside, and notices not much has changed. "Hey slut," Rachel says, appearing from the bathroom with a large smile on her face. She turns off the radio, and stands looking at Brooke.

Brooke can't help but crack a smile as she crosses her arms over her chest and demands, "Where's my car, whore?"

"Why, aren't you friendly this morning. Lucas didn't put out?" Rachel smirks smugly, and Brooke feels a sharp pain in her chest. Her face must have shown this as Rachel's own features soften, and so does her voice. "Okay, fine, that was harsh. I'm sorry." With a roll of her eyes, Rachel plops down onto her bed.

Brooke knows she's sincere - this is as sincere as Rachel will get - and feels a smile tugging at her lips as she says, "Do I need to slut-free my car?"

Rachel shakes her head, picking up a magazine that's laying on the bed, suddenly flipping through it like she's looking for some kind of distraction within the ink. But she's not. They both know that.

"I didn't disrespect your car, Davis," she looks up at Brooke, a smile taints her face, brightening it up and making her look like a decent, emotional and kind human being. "As much as you wish to believe the worst in me, I can actually do good." Rachel's smile falters as her voice quietens and her eyes are cast down, "I'm sorry about the wedding."

Brooke forces a small smile that doesn't reach her eyes and shrugs as if it's nothing, and quietly breathes, "Me too."

Rachel breathes in deeply, the toxic aroma of her heavily scented perfume, and lifts herself off of her pink bed. She walks over to a chest of drawers, and grabs something shiny and noisy off of the wood, "So, great way to put a damper on things, here's your keys." She tosses them to Brooke, who catches them nicely in her hands.

Brooke looks at them, as if she's seeing them for the first time, running her fingers over the dull silver, and looks up at Rachel and quips, "Thanks. You better have taken care of my baby, Gatina."

Rachel makes a face as she sits back down on her bed, "You bet I did. That baby is hot. What fine pieces of $$ you must pick up, Davis."

Brooke chuckles, looking to the bathroom and noticing it hasn't changed. "Yeah. Right. I never had that kind of luck."

"Really? Wow, you must suck." Rachel looks around, the silence in the room is comforting as it allows Rachel to take in Brooke's appearance, and for Brooke to memorise everything in this room. The desk, the drawers, the forgotten garments peeking from behind corners . . . Rachel breaks Brooke's mental photography as she asks, "You have a place to stay?"

Brooke smiles widely, nodding as she remembers her two offers, "Yeah. Two, actually."

"Make that three," Rachel mimics Brooke's smile, her voice showing the emotion of happiness only Brooke will ever get to hear. She's forgotten what it was like with Rachel, back then when everything was technicolour and so messed up.

Brooke refrains from pouncing on Rachel, knowing the other girl wouldn't appreciate human contact - or maybe her marriage curse. "You sure? Last time we almost tore each other's hair out."

"I came so close to bleaching yours." Rachel shrugs, tilting her head to the side, she's almost trying to convince Brooke to stay. Maybe she really does miss her company. Brooke feels the tears burn her eyes as Rachel continues, "It was fun. Come on, you _can't_ deny it. Even though you were all mopey - like you are now - you still had fun."

She gives in, and with a roll of her eyes, Brooke shrugs lamely, "Yeah . . . I _guess_."

"Plus, I heard the position for Brooke Davis' BFF was up for grabs. Thought I might apply. What do you think?"

Brooke laughs, tapping her chin as she pretends to think. As if she really needs to think about this offer. Rachel had always been there - not from the beginning - but when Brooke really needed someone. Rachel had stepped up to the plate, waiting to take a swing at whatever Brooke would throw at her, and she always seemed to get a homerun. "You may have a chance . . ."

"You know I'm here for you, right?"

"Yeah."

Rachel's up again, walking around, searching for something. "Great. Thank god we got all that girly-girl BFF crap out of the way. You want to go to some killer college party tonight?"

"Can't. Old habits die fast. Sorry."

The red head dismisses the rejection with a wave, obviously not offended or mad at Brooke's changed ways. "Eh. Don't be. I guess I should've expected a lot more from you than that. You've grown up, Brooke. Kind of sad, really." With a sigh, Rachel threw a couple of shirts towards the other side of the room, they hit the wall and slid down, landing in an unattractive heap on the side. Ironically, Brooke thinks, it is like how she treats boys. Use them, get bored, then throw them away. She used to be like that, but not anymore. "Anyway. I've got to kick you out. You're really putting me down with all this emo undertone you have going on. Just know, my door is always open. Just, not when there is some sort of sock or scrunchie or something on the doorknob."

Brooke nods appreciatively, watching as the other girl looks up to witness a genuine smile from Brooke Davis, "Thanks Rach."

"No problem, B. Davis. Now, get out! I have a pair of panties to find," Rachel's back to looking around, almost forgetting the girl who was standing in her room.

Brooke shakes her head, rolling her eyes as she sees a pair of black panties hiding behind the chest of drawers, and she looks back at Rachel, an amused smile on her face. She decides to stay quiet about the found garment, and walks towards the door, "Good luck with that."

-

Karen's leaning over Brooke, patting the pillow for the nearly tenth time since that evening, and Brooke smiles at the genuine thought. Karen asks, in a motherly tone that has never really been directed to Brooke by her own mother, "Are you sure the couch is okay?"

"Yeah. I'll be out of your hair by tomorrow, anyway."

"Where will you go?" Karen says as she sits on the couch, almost forgetting how much time and effort she put into smoothing out all the creases in the blanket.

Brooke runs her fingers over the cotton, it almost burning into her skin as she watches her fingers trace invisible patterns and words into the gold fabric, "Nathan's, believe it or not. I convinced him to let me bunk with him."

Karen leans forward on her knees, her eyes shining with something Brooke isn't used to. "Are you sure that's such a smart idea?"

"Why wouldn't it be?" Brooke frowns, confused at what may be happening behind Nathan's dully coloured door. She mentally notes that she'll have to change that.

Karen fiddles with her hands, looking down at her bare fingernails as they battle it out in an almost war, "Well . . . he only has one bed."

Brooke shrugs, and coolly responds, "Couch. The couch is fine."

Karen's tone is full of concern and almost bordering on motherly. Brooke knows she's about to pull the 'Mom Card' as she stretches out her name almost menacingly, "Brooke . . ."

She's thought about it. The complications of staying with Nathan - a male with one bed - but Brooke finds his apartment - and his couch - a lot more promising and comfortable than her car. Brooke sighs. "I'd love to stay here, Karen, I really would. But I hate doing this. Camping from house to house just because I don't have my own, and I don't want to stay here out of charity or you feeling obligated to. I know I've hurt you - and . . . Luke - and that will never go away, but I've got to move on, and allow you to, too."

Karen sighs, a smile proudly spills onto her face, "Okay Brooke. If this is what you want . . . just know there is always a spare couch for you whenever you need it." Karen gets up, patting the spot she just occupied with her hands, and took the glass on the table in front of Brooke in her grip.

Brooke laughs, watching Karen walk away, "It seems like that offer is just wanting to burst off of everyone's tongue. I will, Karen. Thank you."

-

"This is it?" Nathan asks, watching Brooke easily glide her wheeled bag in through the door.

Brooke looks up at him, her eyebrow perked as she places the bag beside the door, leaning it against the rather boring coloured wall, "Yeah. Why, were you expecting a castle?"

"Well . . . yeah." Nathan scratches the back of his neck, and at her offended look, he quickly adds, "I'm just surprised, is all."

The impression she must have given everyone. She shakes her head, thinking that she wasn't _really_ a spoiled princess, was she? She never seemed to think so - but no one ever really _told_ her that she was a princess. No one really said anything. This seemed to place pressure on her heart; _Did Nathan think she was some sort of spoiled little troll?_

Nathan clears his throat, and Brooke breathes in the new atmosphere. _No tension_. "All my stuff is in storage," Brooke says simply as she takes in the apartment. Dull walls, less furniture, male odour.

His eyebrow is perked up, now, "Storage?"

She looks up at him, and she knows she can't lie to him - about _this_, anyway - and she rolls her eyes as she dejectedly narrates, "We - Luke and I - were going to buy a house right after the honeymoon. We'd been saving up for a house, since we'd been talking about moving in together. We wanted a nice place, you know? A house, apartment, whatever. Since I kind of didn't have a solid place to stay - and since I moved out of my apartment before the wedding - Luke had suggested I place my stuff in storage. For safe-keeping and all."

"Didn't you stay with Peyton?"

There it goes again. Except it isn't a good sort of pressure placed on her chest. She feels suffocated, all of a sudden, even when she _thinks_ of that name, she feel like she can't breathe. 

She never could when Peyton was in the room.

"Yeah. But putting all my crap in her house just didn't seem logical. It wasn't like I was marrying her or anything." Brooke rolls her eyes - this is becoming a habit she really doesn't want - and takes a seat at the stool at the counter. She remembers eating cake with her fingers here, four years ago. All because she slept with a musician whose ego was even bigger than the oceans of the world combined, and broke her poor boy-toy's heart. She wasn't even committed to him - exclusively, anyway - and he still managed to hold it against her.

Nathan chuckles, appearing in front of Brooke as he leans against the smooth counter, breaking her out of her darkening trance, and boyishly says, "That would've been kinky."

"Do you ever think with your head, Nate?" Brooke shakes her head, a toothy grin apparent on her face. She draws unintelligible pictures on the shiny surface. A face, a dress, her name.

Nathan chuckles, "Occasionally."

Brooke groans, bringing her palm to rest on her forehead as she leans on it, "Mental images, Nate."

They stay silent, Brooke's head still laying in her palm as she listens to Nathan's even breathing. It's a calming melody, and thoughts of a distressed Haley being calmed by just her husband's breathing bat all her other thoughts away. She wonders if she could have had that with Lucas. The mood changes quickly, and Nathan's tone is serious, "You sure the couch will be okay?"

"Yeah, why? Are you offering the bed?" Brooke snipes, knowing full well what his answer would be. She hopes she knows, anyway. He's not the same womanising Nathan he had been six years ago, before Tutorwife, and before Peyton and Brooke's hoes-over-broes fights.

"No. I was offering the floor."

"Oh my, I have a gentleman in my presence," she says with her hand to her heart as she swirls her head around, causing herself to be momentarily dizzy while seeing silver dots.

"Hey, I never said _anything_ about giving up my place to sleep for you. _You_ were the one who initiated this."

Brooke's about to protest that he was the one who asked, but she exchanges it for a grunt, "Fine, whatever. Go cry Justin Timberlake a river or something." She gets up from the stool, sliding it back under the counter so it is out of the way and just something for her to do in this semi-awkward moment between acquaintances. _Roommates._ "Just know, I don't cook," Brooke walks towards the bathroom, escaping from any arguments or negotiations that may happen between them. She just wants to get settled in and be able to boss Nathan around until his ears tinge red and steam comes from his ears and nose. "And I need more bathroom space."

It isn't long - two hours and twenty two minutes, to be exact - before Brooke is picking out colours to repaint the living room. Nathan, sitting on a stool, nods disinterestedly as he reads a sports magazine, lost in the world of basketball, sweaty men and skimpily clad cheerleaders.

This is the life.

Except Brooke's noticed he's not paying attention - after five minutes of her yapping on about pinks and blues and paint brush textures - before she's in his face, flicking his nose, his ear and snatching the magazine from underneath his fingertips.

"Hey! I was reading that!"

"Yeah, and I was thinking about getting a sex change. Small world, huh?" Nathan's eyebrows shoot to his hairline as Brooke stands with her hands on her hips, her own eyebrow perked up in a challenging stance, "You gonna pay attention now, _Natey_?"

"Haven't you drained the world for your need for attention already?"

"You're cute, Scott, I'll give you that, but my need for attention is not the issue here. The _walls_ are bland. We need colour! How can you live in this hell of a hole without some brightness?" She says as she makes hand waves towards the walls, Nathan follows her wild gestures. By the look on his face, he doesn't _see_ anything she's saying.

Nathan gathers his wits as he looks at Brooke's fuming face, "How is it that people let you walk around the streets without thinking you need to be institutionalised?"

"It's because I'm hot, Nathan. You should know this already," she answers almost robotically, and his cheeks flush a light pink. Brooke smirks, and ignores it as a sign of Nathan being a _boy_, and quickly whips two colour palettes she somehow picked up during the time she spent leaving Karen's to driving to Nathan's from behind her back. "Now, baby pink or baby blue?"

"What?"

"This room," Brooke gestures to where the blank television is, "It's kind of my bedroom right now, so, pink or blue?"

"How about keeping it as it is?"

Brooke shakes her head. _Boys_. "How about you _look_ at this room, hmm?"

"I'm looking," Nathan says as he quickly glances at the room. Brooke watches him like a hawk, knowing he's looking longingly at the television. It's big, shiny and - just like all small children crave - sweet. It's Nathan's candy, to the world of basketball, and she knows he's going to miss _some_ game with her bickering about colours.

"And what does it say to you?"

Nathan's gaze calmly settles on Brooke as he says, "That the crazy woman standing in my kitchen needs to take her medication?"

She rolls her eyes, scoffing in offence as she immediately starts to raise her voice, making them both think of Whitey, "Wrong, Scott! How the hell did you graduate Tree High with your failing capacity to _use your brain_?" She rolls up the magazine, and before he can even _protest_ about the curling pages, she hits him on the head.

"Jesus, Brooke!"

"That should teach you to not pay attention." Brooke places her hands on her hips and breathes in deeply. She drops the magazine onto the counter and smacks his hands away when he tries to grab for it. Brooke then grabs the two rectangular cards with the colours she's previously shown him, and she excitedly says, "Now, pink or blue?"

Nathan groans.

-

Brooke's sitting on a stool with her legs crossed delicately at her knees, and in her grip she holds a magazine. She quietly reads it, occasionally humming an odd tune, and she tops immediately as she hears Nathan's loud footsteps. She can see - and the reminder she can always sense with her nose whiffs into her personal bubble - Nathan standing before her, but she chooses to ignore him, "What are you doing Brooke?"

"Reading," she says as she doesn't take her eyes off of the magazine. She, instead, turns the page and starts to read the text and look at the pretty pictures.

"You can read?"

This makes Brooke raise her head, and she pokes her tongue out. Holding the magazine up so Nathan can fully read the title without tilting his head and spilling any of the muck that occupies the space where his brain should be through his ears, she evenly says, "Interior design."

"_Brooke!_" Nathan whines with a roll of his bright eyes. Brooke grins widely, knowing he doesn't want her to do anything to the apartment. But, in her own mind, she knows he wants something different. And, even if he doesn't, who cares? It isn't like she was going to get him to help her.

Brooke returns to her magazine, shaking her head in disappointment as she quips, "Whining is for babies, Nathan. I'm pretty sure you've matured to a five-year-old by now."

Nathan ignores her as he starts his tirade of protests, "We don't _need_ to change _my_ apartment! You're temporarily staying, remember? Weren't you getting an apartment soon?"

"Yes," Brooke pouts as she rests the magazine gently on her lap. She can sense Nathan's need for an argument, but she won't deliver. She's too comfortable in her _zone_ to argue with him. Plus, seeing Nathan lose his "cool" is very amusing.

"So, why do you need to permanently change _my_ apartment when _you're_ gonna be gone?"

Brooke shrugs, and quietly says, "Project?"

"Design something. A dress, a t-shirt, _whatever_. Just not my house!"

"But I _am_ designing."

"You're gonna change the place where I _live_ into a dress?" Nathan says incredulously, and Brooke can't help but picture the apartment in a dress.

"_No!_ I'm designing your house. Styling it up a little. Adding a feminine touch." Brooke says as she places the magazine onto the counter beside her. She folds her arms in front of her, and calmly looks at Nathan as he looks at her with wide eyes and an almost dark pink face.

Nathan huffs, "But it doesn't _need_ a feminine touch. Especially when there is a _male_ living here!"

She rolls her eyes, and calmly says, "Nathan, I know you're a boy. Okay? It never slipped my mind that you were born with a p -"

Nathan groans and covers his ears, "_Brooke!_"

"You know, you sure are whiny for a twenty-two year old guy."

"And you sure are bitchy for a twenty-two year old woman."

"I'm _not!_ F.Y.I., Nathan Scott, I should've been _married_ by now. On my _honeymoon_ with my _husband_, having _lots_ of hot, wild and heated sex! But instead, I'm back _here_, in this spit of a town, with _you_, who isn't grateful _at all_ for my assistance in trying to _help_ you get . . . I don't know . . . _laid_, perchance?" scoff. "Men. So ungrateful." Brooke composes herself as she starts to walk towards the bathroom, wanting an escape from Nathan and her suddenly heated body, "I'll be in the bathroom, taking an excessively _long_ shower." Brooke yells as she slams the door dramatically. She smirks behind it, hearing his footsteps approaching.

She can sense Nathan behind the door as she looks at herself in the mirror. There's humour in his voice as he rests his head on the door (she hears a thump and stifles her giggles), "You wanted me to get laid?"

Brooke approaches the door, opening it a little so she can have a look at him. He backs up as she honestly replies, "Like _you_ need any help with _that_. God Nathan, whatever happened to the big ego I once knew?" She moves back and closes the door.

"It's with Dan," Nathan says lightly, amusement flickering into his voice. Brooke's glad for the mood change. She's beginning to hate teasing and taunting Nathan. _He carries on like a_ girl. Brooke runs her fingers through her hair, feeling the silkiness in her tresses, and she sighs. She wonders if she should curl it, and she smiles at this idea.

Then she thinks of Peyton, and the smile slips off her face like a ball rolling off a cliff into a sea of rocks.

Brooke returns to the world and places her hands on the edge of the counter, leaning forward as she checks her face for anything out of the ordinary, "Oh, _yes_, I forgot. You're the offspring of Dan Scott."

"The devil reincarnate himself."

Brooke laughs, gathering her toiletries in a bundle on the counter. They threaten to fall as she quickly pushes them towards the wall, "See, _that_ is why I like you."

"You like me?" She can sense the smile through the door, and she smiles in return. She opens the cabinet above the sink and starts placing some of her products in there.

"You're not a cheating bastard, you're not a son of a bch - although, you were before Lucas came into my life - and you're, dare I say it, _nice_. Which is okay. You know? It's not like I _love_ you or anything."

"Pity. I just wanted you to love me," Nathan says sarcastically, and Brooke feels a blush creeping up her neck. It's faint, and it doesn't really matter. It isn't like _Nathan_ caused it. She's just working too fast at organising her stuff.

"Yeah, yeah, stop pouting. And I am really going to become Mrs Tim Smith in nine months." Brooke closes the cupboard, and she doesn't know where she's put the container with the soap that forms white foam. She opens the doors underneath the sink, skimming through the messy contents that Nathan calls 'toiletries'. _Bug spray?_ Closing the door shut, Brooke looks towards the door and demands, "Where are the bubbles?"

"You don't need bubbles for a shower."

She rolls her eyes, and places her hands on her hips as she glances around the room, wishing she had x-ray vision like Clark Kent. "A bath, what are you, stupid?"

"You said shower."

"I lied," she shrugs, and even though he can't _see_ it she knows he knows. It's some weird connection roomies have, right?

"Do you ever tell the truth?"

"Will you ever grow some balls?" Brooke says robotically as she takes another chance and looks underneath the sink. It's disgusting - as before - but she moves some of the cans and small baskets around. "Found it!" Brooke stands up, closes the door and pumps a fist in the air as she starts to turn on the taps in the rectangular bath.

"I'm gonna stop talking to the door."

Brooke smirks, placing the plug on top of the silver drain that isn't as clean as the pearly white bath, and takes the lid off of the bubbles. "You should do that."

"I'm leaving."

"Goodbye," she says after she squirts some of the pink liquid into the water and closes the cap. She places it on the sink - which is clear of her toiletries now - and she ties her hair up again.

"Don't miss me too much. I'm just a room away."

"Are you sure your big head can fit into a room?" She moves towards the door and makes sure it is locked. It's not like Nathan would walk in - he's a changed Nathan Scott who respects someone's privacy. Unless if it was his wife.

Brooke shivers at the thought and makes sure she _knows_ it is locked. _Better safe than sorry._

Nathan laughs, "I love you too."

She feels a pang in her chest, and quickly dismisses it as she evenly says, "Hate you."

"Stop poking your tongue out at the door."

Brooke gasps as she walks towards the bath and starts to undress, "Stop perving on me! What is this, _Big Brother?_"

Nathan chuckles, and she hears him pat the door. This must signal his leaving as she hears his footsteps grow softer.

It is suddenly quiet, and she's aware she's all alone.

She sinks into the bath, sighing as the warmth takes over her. She leans forward and turns off the burning taps, and settles back against the white smooth surface of Nathan's tub. Brooke gets comfortable within bubbles, palming them and blowing them in the air like she used to.

Closing her eyes, she allows her imagination to take her to a place that always makes her relax. The thought of her wedding, not so traditional in the sense of churches and a thousand guests dressed in black and various shades of calming earthy colours, calms her nerves as the temperature of the water sends them on over-drive. She smiles, sighing as the water laps over her like the waves on the beach.

She imagines a beach, a man and a few people with smiles that make her laugh and blush as she walks, barefoot, on the sandy grains. Even though she feels like the water of her bath is seeping into her throat, drowning her slowly, she still feels her heart beating quickly as she stands before the blonde haired boy who promised her eternity.


	3. Fairy Mother

**AN:** I'm so sorry about the late update. I've gone back and sort of re-wrote _small_ bits of the last two chapters. I don't want to start the Brathan romance so soon, and, well, I didn't like the ending of chapter two. I don't know when the next chapter will be up, but I plan on keeping this fic alive. This is a short chapter, but I think it helps move the story along. :) Feedback is love.

-

The first thing she does is she snatches the newspaper out of Nathan's large hands. Even as he protests, she skips into the small living room and plops down onto the couch. The sports channel - as predicted - is on, and this morning it does not bother her. She turns the newspaper over, the complex way of its large pages and messy ink stains her hands and mind, and finally, after some snickering from behind her, she manages to open the large paper to the available jobs.

"What are you doing Brooke?" Nathan stands in front of her, hands crossed over his muscular chest, and he smirks at her. She narrows her eyes at him, and shakes her head as she circles a large box on the paper. "Brookie?"

Brooke hates that name, and as she narrows her eyes even more at Nathan, she knows he's teasing her in a way that is really unusual, coming from this Scott when she thinks about it. "Searching for a job."

Nathan laughs, kind of loudly and _insanely_ for a man who was divorced a couple of years ago and who still lives in the past. Why was he finding her excitement so . . . _entertaining?_ He's seriously bringing her down. "You got a problem, Nate? I bet you haven't taken your meds yet. Is that it?"

Nathan sobers, and Brooke's nearly forgotten he's there. _Almost._ She can still see his shadow falling over the paper as he stands tall, and she can't see the television from his close form near her. If she wanted to, she could just poke his thigh, and maybe have him fall over. Maybe onto the couch, maybe onto the floor.

"You're kind of hogging the couch . . ." he says pathetically, and Brooke raises a plucked eyebrow at him. She rolls her eyes as he looks at her seriously - his own eyebrow is quirked ever so slightly, and his lips form a cute little slope - and she moves over, bouncing as she does, and pats the space she left as he sinks down beside her.

There's no room between them, and Brooke feels self-concious. Something she had only ever felt when she was with the _other_ Scott.

_Stupid Scotts._ She shakes her head, and Nathan becomes immersed in the world of non-stop basketball. She swears that one day she'll peel that remote out of his cold, dead fingers. She'll kill him if that's what it's going to take to make her wish come true.

She clears her throat as she circles another box, less enthusiastically now. She reads over it again, and finds herself not fitting in the requirements. She doubts she'll make a good carsalesman, even if she lacks in the flat chest and manly build, but she doesn't know anything about cars, nor is she willing to learn. She sighs, and piles the newspaper onto Nathan's lap. Pouting, she crosses her arms over her chest and watches the stupid basketball game.

Out of the corner of her eye, Nathan gives her a look, and places his long arm around her shoulder, ignoring the pile of large paper on his lap as Brooke sulks in her lack of abilities and the danger of watching a basketball game. Who knows, maybe one of the players could steal her heart again.

She doubts that won't happen.

-

_HELP WANTED._

The sign refuses to budge as she tries to rip it from the window. With a few more tries, and a lot less budges, Brooke finally gives up and stamps her feet with a huff. "This is pathetic. I'm pretty sure Karen will fire me if I can't get this damn sign out of the window."

"Karen hired you to be the sign remover? Wow, Brooke. I wouldn't have settled for anything less for you." Nathan appears behind her, and Brooke's starting to regret asking for that superhuman strength on her tenth birthday. She wants to throw the sign at him, but, sadly, it seems superglued to the window.

She rolls her eyes at him, and sends him a narrowing glare, "What do you want, Nathan? Can't you see I'm _working_?"

"That's what this is?" Nathan asks, pointing to the sign. He smirks, and Brooke _really_ wants that superhuman strength right now. And maybe The Terminator's guns. She should've stayed in California when she had the chance. "I thought you were _working_, Brooke."

She huffs, tugging at the sign again, "_I am._" She bites out, "Did you just come here to bug me, or to eat?"

She can feel him smirk behind her, "To eat. That's why I always come to _Karen's_. I thought you knew what a cafe was, Brooke. Considering your ex -"

Brooke whips around, gritting through her teeth, "If you want little Nathan's to run around and cause people to want to run them over with their cars, you'll stop _right there._" She crosses her arms over her chest, trying to make him feel small under her glare -- although he's taller and she's possibly a couple of inches shorter.

Nathan's smirk fades a little, and Brooke's pretty sure he won't bite back at her. He doesn't, but what he says next completely surprises her. "Why is there a trash bag near our couch?"

"What?" Brooke returns to the sign, finding it much more appealing than having _this_ conversation. "Maybe you left it there. You are a slob, after all."

There's mirth in his voice, "It's not mine, Brooke."

"Obviously. If it doesn't reek, it isn't Nathan Scott's." Brooke shakes her head, and sighs as the sign won't budge again. How _do_ people get this thing off of the window? They make it seem so much easier in the movies. "What makes you think _I_ know what's in it? I've only been at your apartment for a few days, now."

"And you rule it like your own kingdom." Nathan chuckles, and Brooke can't help but crack a small smile. She hits her palm against the window, leaving a vague print that she'll have to wipe off before Karen sees how ridiculous she is as a worker. The sign won't budge, and neither will Nathan on the subject, "What's in the bag, Brooke?"

She sighs, and turns around. The best way to avoid something as gigantic is this is to face it head on and _lie._ "Nothing, it's nothing. Just some old reading material."

"Reading material?"

A feeling of familiarity washes over Brooke, and she relaxes slightly in her posture. The subject is dropped for now, but Brooke knows Nathan a little more than she'd like. He won't drop it, not until later when he _thinks_ she thinks it's been dropped. It was the only thing that made Lucas and him alike, in Brooke's eyes. They never let anything die in the dirt. "Yeah. I have a rather big book collection. So what?"

His lips quick up, and he shakes his head with a deep laugh, "You always manage to surprise me, Brooke Davis."

"And you always manage to repulse me with your disgusting socks all over our place, Nathan Scott."

He chuckles, and makes his way over to the counter to talk with Karen or someone that may be over there. She doesn't really care anymore. She feels happy with herself, and with a small bounce in her step, she manages to pluck the sign from the window, without even breaking a nail.

-

"Is everyday _always_ like this?" Brooke asks as she wipes down the counter slowly. The cafe is quiet, and the only people in the building are her and Karen.

Karen laughs, placing the coffee pot back on it's holder, "No. You're lucky. When Haley first started out, there were plenty of people she needed to please." Brooke fidgets, sighing and throwing the rag down in front of her with the flick of her wrist. She thought being a waitress would be as easy as walking. She wishes all days would be like this; quiet, silent, and no Nathan. She tilts her head, and whispers uncomfortably, "Thanks for giving me the job, Karen. You didn't have to, but you did. So, thanks."

Karen smiles, "It's no problem, Brooke. Either way, if it worked between you and Lucas or not, you're still family."

Brooke laughs, her eyes feel like they're burning as Karen appears as a blurry figure until she blinks a couple of times, "Thanks Karen. You were always like the fairy mother."

Brooke watches as Karen walks around the counter and takes a seat at the stool beside her, "Don't you mean fairy godmother?"

Brooke shakes her head, "I always believed that a fairy mother was way cooler than a fairy godmother."


End file.
